


she's so hard to please, but she's a forest fire

by gutsandglitter



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/pseuds/gutsandglitter
Summary: Her passion was charming until it wasn’t, and one by one they left, claiming a need for space. All of them said “it’s not you, it’s me” or some permutation thereof, but Hecate knew that it was her, it was always her. She was too much, too needy. For her, falling in love was just that - falling. It was something accidental and exhilarating that would inevitably end with a violent crash.





	she's so hard to please, but she's a forest fire

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by the fact that I've had Lorde's Melodrama on constant rotation for the past two weeks. And by the fact that I think Dimity is the ultimate wingwoman/Hackle shipper.

For years, the color pink made Hecate want to cry.

A disastrous first attempt at romance with Pippa Pentangle left her feeling hollow, as if she’d had some vital organ removed without her consent. Her parents had always taught her that emotions were something to be controlled (lest they interfere with one’s ability to see logic and reason), but after the falling-out she found it harder than ever to maintain a cool facade, not with all the pain and and angst that was roiling deep inside her chest. 

She had always felt like an outsider, and her heartbreak only served to make her feel more ostracized from her peers. For years she had watched them as they flirted, fell in love, broke up, and then just...went on with their lives. Meanwhile, Hecate felt as if the world had suddenly stopped spinning on its axis. 

Part of her was disdainful of them - of course they weren’t falling apart, they were immature and playing at a kind of childish puppy love. If any of them had experienced the type of love that she and Pippa had shared, then they would surely be in similar states of devastation.

But another part of her wondered if she might be the problem. What if they all had something that she didn’t? What if she had some sort of emotional deformity, something that made her weak and unable to handle things the way her peers could? She lay awake every night worrying that there was something deeply wrong with her, and wondering if there was some sort of spell or potion that could fix her.

Somehow, she managed to finish out her time at Merriweather Academy. She went on to University, threw herself into her studies, and tried to not think about the state of her heart. She rose to the top of all her classes, became a TA for the potions department, and started working towards her teaching credential. Over time, the hurt lessened, and she was able to think about Pippa with a kind of wistful fondness, rather than abject despair. 

But even without the fresh, raw ache of a broken heart, she still found herself wary about the idea of love. It didn’t seem worth it - the constant anxiety paired with the real risk of being hurt again, just for what seemed like a few fleeting moments of happiness. She wondered if she might not be better off alone - some people just aren’t cut out for romance, and she assumed that she must be one of those people.

This assumption lasted all of three months, until she walked into an upper-division chanting lecture and saw Katrina Dogwood, the Great Witch’s eldest daughter. 

Katrina had been holding court in the front row, surrounded by a gaggle of friends and admirers, and Hecate found herself mesmerized as the young woman recounted a story that seemed to involve a hobgoblin magistrate and a poorly-executed invisibility spell. Mid-story, Katrina had glanced at Hecate over her shoulder and a warm, easy smile had spread across her face. She winked, and Hecate knew she was done for. She fell in love with Katrina in that moment, and a few weeks later she fell into her bed.

Katrina’s creamy skin had been peppered with freckles that Hecate liked to trace with her fingertips, and sometimes her tongue. Some of them had resembled constellations, and she would name them - _Cygnus, Aquila, Vela, Fornax_ \- whispering the ancient words against her lover’s skin well into the night. 

Katrina had enjoyed this, in the beginning. She would card her fingers through Hecate’s dark hair and giggle whenever she came upon a particularly ticklish spot. Later she would hold her close, often falling asleep with her head resting directly over Hecate’s heart. She was tender and patient, and she appreciated Hecate’s need to be tactile. She lavished Hecate with kisses and hugs, with gentle shoulder squeezes and soft caresses. When Hecate had one of her night terrors, she would awake to the feeling of a warm hand pressed between her shoulder blades, steady and safe.

But eventually Katrina began to pull away.

It started innocuously enough. “Not now darling, I’m trying to study.”

Or, “Stop that, your hands are freezing.”

And then, one night when Hecate awoke in a cold sweat - “Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in your own bed?”

It was the same with Lily, with Samira, with Marguerite. 

Her passion was charming until it wasn’t, and one by one they left, claiming a need for space. All of them said “it’s not you, it’s me” or some permutation thereof, but Hecate knew that it was her, it was always her. She was too much, too needy. She had too little control over her own emotions; she never felt just happy or sad or scared - she felt delirious joy, debilitating sorrow, fear that cut through her breast like a steel blade. For her, falling in love was just that - falling. It was something accidental and exhilarating that would inevitably end with a violent crash.

Once more, she came to the conclusion that she was not cut out for romance. It was the only logical explanation she could see for why she was so different from the women she kept falling for, why she seemed to lack the temperance and equanimity that they seemed to possess naturally. So she strengthened her resolve, built up her walls so that the Katrina Dogwoods of the world could not get through. Any urge for intimacy could be satisfied with a quick, anonymous fumble with someone she met at a pub or a witching convention. This suited her needs well, for it allowed her to to get what she wanted and then slip away before she could learn the other woman’s name, let alone develop feelings for her.

She started teaching, and spent the first few years of her career bouncing from one school to another. She was never fired, but she found herself on the receiving end of “perhaps your talents would be better suited for another school” on more than one occasion. 

_It's not you, it's me._

In all fairness, Hecate wasn't very fond of any of these schools either. The strict, well-disciplined academies she was initially drawn to were filled with bitter old witches who seemed to delight in making their students’ lives miserable. (She didn’t like to throw the term _wicked_ around too often, but if the ruby slipper fits...) They didn’t care about their students, didn’t seem to be invested in their growth, and Hecate began to feel like the bleeding heart of the bunch. But the schools with dedicated teachers who truly loved their students were too lax on discipline, which made her want to tear her hair out. 

Cackle’s was different. 

She knew this from the moment her feet touched down on the courtyard. The castle itself was charming - a bit modern for her tastes, perhaps, but warm and inviting nonetheless. The reputation of the school was immaculate, and Hecate was blown away by the raw talent of the students it attracted. She found the disciplinary policies to be a touch too lenient, but on the whole they seemed fair and well-reasoned. 

What’s more, where the teachers at her others schools had been clique-ish enough to put their own students to shame, the ragtag bunch of academics at Cackle’s seemed to consider her one of their own from the very start. Each one was a misfit in their own right - from the overly-enthusiastic Miss Drill to the rarely-lucid Miss Bat, and in this regard they saw cold, sarcastic Miss Hardbroom as a kindred spirit. 

And then there was Ada. 

Ada, who doted on her students and kept lemon drops in her pockets. Ada, who wore her heart on her pink woolen sleeve and didn’t try to hide her softness from the world. 

Ada, who showed Hecate that kindness should never be mistaken for weakness.

Towards the end of her first year at Cackle’s, Hecate bore witness to the (seemingly) final falling out between Ada and Agatha. She watched as Ada beat her sister in a duel and banished her from the castle, then turned around and began comforting a crying student without pausing for breath. Hecate was in awe; the same woman who had just single-handedly defended her school in a test of sheer power was now offering a child her lace handkerchief and murmuring gentle words of comfort.

In that moment, she realized that her carefully-constructed walls might have been sufficient enough to keep the Katrina Dogwoods of the world out, but they were no match for Ada Cackle. 

There was no point in fighting it. All she could really do was take comfort in the fact that Ada would never return her feelings, which meant that Hecate could remain her confidante and friend without having to reveal her own messy, volatile nature. After everything she'd been through, unrequited love seemed safe. Manageable.

And she did manage it, for a few years. 

Then one evening, shortly after Hecate had been made Deputy Headmistress, Ada was called away from dinner to answer an important mirror call. 

“Think you can maintain order in my absence, Deputy?” she teased, rising from the Head Table. 

Hecate rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping an eye on the girls for the duration of one meal, _Headmistress_.”

Ada squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “Of course you are,” she murmured, then took her leave. 

Hecate watched her leave the room, a fond smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She was so distracted, she missed Dimity’s first two attempts to get her attention.

“Oi, HB!” 

Hecate turned and raised an eyebrow.

Dimity snickered. “Wow, smitten much?”

Hecate’s nostrils flared. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Miss Drill,” she snapped.

“Uh-huh.” Dimity leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head. “So I suppose you won’t know what I mean when I tell you that she watches you with that exact same expression when she thinks you’re not looking?”

Hecate’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt a flush begin to make its way across her cheeks. “No, I would not.”

“Right. Come on HB, you should go for it. Live a little. Let your hair down, pull that broomstick out of your-”

“That is _quite_ enough, Miss Drill,” Hecate hissed. “Might I remind you that there are children present?”

Dimity shrugged and rocked her chair back on it’s rear legs. “Alright. But I do think you two would make a cute couple. And besides, it’s been so dull around here lately. The rest of us could use something good to gossip about.”

Hecate was too distracted by the idea that Ada might return her feelings to be able to craft a stinging retort. Instead she snapped her fingers, bringing the front legs of Dimity’s chair back to the flagstones with a satisfying thud. The PE teacher scowled at her but said no more on the subject, so Hecate took it as a win. 

Later that night she paced the length of her rooms, both thankful for and irritated by the privacy. With the students around, she could file away her feelings and redirect her focus onto something more practical and pressing. But at night she was left alone, with only her own increasingly-irritating thoughts for company. 

Dimity had most likely said what she said just to get a rise out of her. (That was something she did quite a lot, and Hecate ranked it as one of the other woman’s top three most irritating quirks.) Hecate told herself this over and over again, but it did little to tamp down the equal measures of hope and fear that had been building in her chest since dinner.

As she settled into bed, a tiny unbidden voice in the back of her mind asked _What if?_

It was answered almost immediately by a much louder voice. 

_You know “what if.” You'll just ruin it, and lose the best friend you've ever known._

She blew out the candle on her nightstand and fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Time passed, as it often does. Autumn gave way to winter, and the fear that had coiled around the base of Hecate's spine began to ease its grip. Nothing had changed - Ada was still her amiable, irritatingly optimistic self. They bickered, shared cups of tea, graded papers together in comfortable silence. So what if on occasion Ada squeezed her shoulder, and her hand lingered a bit longer than necessary? Or if she sometimes caught Hecate’s eye across a crowded room and winked at her, as if they was sharing some quiet, private joke? Those were just things that friends did. They were just friends, Dimity was just cruel, and that was just the end of that. 

After what felt like an eternity, Michaelmas term finally ended. One by one the students took to the sky, flying off to spend the holidays with their respective families. Per tradition, the faculty and staff to stayed behind for a few extra days before leaving to be with their own loved ones. This was ostensibly to do paperwork and tie up the term’s loose ends, but in reality it was to prepare for the annual Yuletide staff party. 

As a general rule, Hecate hated parties. She was by no means a social person, and idle small tended to leave her feeling drained. That being said, she did enjoy Cackle’s Yuletide party. 

It always led to an enjoyable (and strange) night - Maria would prepare far too much food and bring out a barrel of her homemade honey wine, which was alarmingly potent. Dimity would drink too much and end up challenging everyone to an arm-wrestling competition. Davina would end up reciting all of the Weird Sisters’ chants from memory, often in perfect (if somewhat inexplicable) reverse-chronological order. 

But the real reason Hecate looked forward to the party was the fact it was the one night of the year where she and Ada could enjoy a cup of something that wasn’t tea and truly enjoy each other’s company as friends. They spent so much time together, but during term-time their duties always loomed in the background of every stolen moment of down time -- there was always a student knocking on the door, or a stack of exams to grade, or a protective ward that needed recasting. At the Yuletide party, it was just her and Ada.

And Dimity. 

Infernal, obnoxious, meddling Dimity.

That year’s party had started off just fine. The wine flowed freely, the food was divine, and all of the guests seemed to be in a particularly merry mood.

Hecate and Ada had convened by the fireplace, each bearing a goblet. They had toasted, wishing each other health and happiness in the coming year, and begun discussing _Brewing up for Trouble: The Curse of the Workaholic Witch_ , which Hecate had reluctantly read at Ada’s insistence.

Just as she was about to argue that yes, work can be a hobby for some people, Dimity sidled up behind Ada and winked at Hecate. She wiggled her fingers, conjuring a small sprig of mistletoe over Hecate’s head, and gave an exaggerated thumb’s up. Then she wandered away, no doubt looking for someone else to torture.

Hecate’s heart sank as she looked up at the mistletoe. It was a common potions ingredient, one she handled almost every day without a second thought. But now, in this context, the mere sight of it made her feel ill. 

Ada glanced up at the greenery and chuckled, looking back down at Hecate. “You know, it is a Yuletide tradition,” she said slowly, eyes twinkling with mirth. She set her goblet down on the mantelpiece. “And we do so like to uphold tradition here.”

Hecate swallowed, setting down her own goblet. “Er, yes. Yes we do.” Her stomach filled with an uncomfortable fluttering sensation, one which she would staunchly refuse to call “butterflies.”

Ada took a step forward, raising a tentative hand. “May I?”

Hecate nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. The not-butterflies were now performing aerial tricks that could have put any professional broomstick display to shame.

Ada stood up on her toes and cupped Hecate’s jaw. She paused for a moment, running her thumb across the brunette’s cheek before leaning in and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. 

Hecate let out a gasp, a tiny involuntary sound that seemed to bubble up from her very core. Her mind went blank, wiping out all logic and every single reason as to why this was categorically _a very bad idea_. She raised a hand to the back of Ada’s head, threading her fingers through the headmistress’ silver hair. (Which Hecate was delighted to learn was just as soft as she had imagined it would be.)

Emboldened, Ada stepped forward and wound her arms around Hecate’s waist. She deepened the kiss, and Hecate made a small sound of approval as she felt the faintest touch of her tongue.

Over the years, she had imagined this happening a hundred different times and a hundred different ways, but nothing could have prepared her for how perfect, how right it felt to hold Ada in her arms and kiss her. She felt weightless, as if she and Ada were floating high above the ground. 

But what goes up, must come down.

“Oi, get a bloody room!” Miss Gullet hollered from somewhere across the hall.

Hecate’s body went rigid, shocked by the cruel reminder that she and Ada were not tucked away in their own little perfect plane of existence. They were still in the staff lounge surrounded by their colleagues, all of whom (aside from Gullet) were pointedly not looking at them. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dimity trying and failing to hide a grin behind her goblet. 

Her face burned, and her ears began to ring so loudly that she missed the uncharacteristically rude retort Ada gave to Gullet. She backed away, extricating herself from Ada’s firm embrace. 

“I...Ada, I’m so sorry,” she said, before turning on her heel and fleeing the room. 

She ran out the door and down the corridor, regretting the fact that her signature gowns significantly restricted her stride. Her heavy footfalls on the flagstones echoed throughout the halls in time with her racing heartbeat, which was now pounding in her ears. 

_You knew this would happen._

_And now you've ruined everything._

She reached the end of the hall and threw open the door to the courtyard. The sharp December chill bit through her clothes, sinking deep into her bones and making her shiver. Normally she would have cast a warming spell, but her hands were shaking too much for her to be able to manage even the simplest of spells.

When she started running she’d had no clear destination in mind, aside from _anywhere but here in this room where everyone is staring at me _. She realized that she could have just transferred, but where else could he have gone?__

__Glancing around the courtyard, she spied a stone bench half-hidden by a juniper bush. It seemed as good a place as any to escape to. She collapsed onto it, caught somewhere between panting and sobbing. Her breathing eventually evened out, and she doubled-over with her arms wrapped tightly around her own middle, as if trying to keep herself from shattering into a million pieces._ _

__She didn’t hear the careful, measured steps approaching, and didn’t register Ada’s presence until a pair of velveteen loafers with embroidered cat faces entered her frame of vision. She hadn’t noticed the shoes when they were at the party; they were so endearing, so appropriate for Ada, that it made Hecate’s heart hurt._ _

__“Hecate I’m so sorry, I seem to have overstepped my bounds. It was wrong of me to-”_ _

__Hecate squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No, no. You’re not wrong. You were just...It’s me, I’m...I’m all wrong,” she said, voice cracking._ _

__Ada furrowed her brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”_ _

__“I embarrassed you. I got too caught up and-”_ _

__“I didn't exactly try to stop you, my dear.”_ _

__Hecate took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose, taking a moment to steady herself. She sat up, swiping the back of her hand at some of the tears still clinging to the apples of her cheeks. “I’m not good at this.”_ _

__“What, kissing? Because I’m afraid I must beg to differ on that point.”_ _

__Despite everything, Hecate couldn’t help but smile. “No, not kissing.” She wrapped the chain of her pendant around her index finger, pulling it taut so the links dug into her skin. “Everything else. I’m just...too much. And I don’t know how to not be that way.” She tried to continue, but the words wouldn’t come._ _

__Naming things gives them power. She taught this to her students, and believed it with all of her heart. But what she had neglected to realize was the fact that it doesn’t work both ways. This tempest of emotion swelling in her chest - the combination of love and fear and heartache and hope and anxiety - held so much power over her, and yet she could not name it._ _

__Ada moved forward, dusting off a small section of the bench before sitting down beside Hecate._ _

__“Hecate, do you know why I hired you?”_ _

__This wasn’t quite the last thing Hecate expected her to say, but it certainly wasn’t the first._ _

__She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head._ _

__Ada looked out at the courtyard. “Yours was the first position Mother had me fill on my own.She was nearing retirement, and she knew that if things didn’t work out with Agatha, then whomever I hired would most likely going to become my deputy after she left. She wanted me to find someone I would want to work closely with, someone who could be a true partner to me when it came to running the school.”_ _

__She paused, seeming to weigh her words for a moment before continuing._ _

__“There was another applicant, a kind woman about ten years older than yourself. She was perfectly pleasant, and had the Great Wizard himself down as one of her references. If Mother had been doing the hiring, she would have hired this woman in a heartbeat.”_ _

__Hecate blinked. Again, this was not how she had expected this conversation to go. “Ada, why are you telling me this?”_ _

__Ada ignored the question. “When you came in for your interview, you were so stiff and uncomfortable. In all honesty, I just couldn’t see you working here, fitting in here. But then I asked you about your thoughts on modern potions pedagogy and, oh Hecate, I wish you could have seen your face. Your eyes lit up, and you became the most radiant thing I’d ever seen. You talked for five minutes straight, scarcely pausing to take a breath.”_ _

__Hecate flushed and looked down. She unwrapped the chain and re-wrapped it, pulling it tighter than before. “I remember. I was so embarrassed afterwards, and I was certain that I hadn't gotten the job.”_ _

__“But what I'm trying to tell you is that you had nothing to be embarrassed about,” Ada said, a kind of fond exasperation creeping into her voice. “Because it was in that moment that I knew it was you I had been looking for, in more ways than one.”_ _

__Hecate’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced up at Ada, who gave her a tender smile._ _

__“My dear, you say that you think you're too much, but the fact of the matter is that most people just simply aren’t enough. What you see as your greatest weakness is really your greatest strength.”_ _

_It's not you, it's them._

__Had anyone else said this to Hecate, she would have told them to shove it in their cauldron. But this wasn’t just anyone, and whether or not it was actually true, it was clear that Ada believed it to be true._ _

__And that was good enough for Hecate._ _

__After a moment’s hesitation, she reached across the bench and took one of Ada’s hands in her own. It was soft, but it bore a thick broomstick callous along the index finger and thumb, much like Hecate’s own. She traced a pattern across the knuckles, knowing she should say something equally deep and heartfelt as what Ada had said, but once again words were failing her._ _

__“Your hands are cold,” she murmured._ _

__Ada hummed. “Yours are too.”_ _

__Hecate felt a gentle pulse of heat move through her fingertips as Ada cast a wordless warming spell over the both of them. Only then did she realize how cold she had been, and she shivered at the sensation._ _

__From somewhere inside the castle came the faint sound of a cork popping, followed by cheers. Unsurprisingly, Dimity’s distinct whoop could be heard over the muffled din._ _

__A mischievous smile began to play at the corners of Hecate’s lips. She winked at Ada, then raised her free hand and snapped her fingers. There was a tiny burst of sparks, and a small bough of mistletoe appeared over their heads, complete with a dainty red bow._ _

__Hecate tilted her head and gave a shameless smirk. “Since we were so rudely interrupted before. As you said, it is tradition.”_ _

__Ada laughed, a bright sound of delight which rang out across the moonlit courtyard._ _

__Hecate arched an eyebrow. “Too much?” she asked. There was a tiny, almost imperceptible note of trepidation in her voice._ _

__“No.” Ada tilted her chin up and captured Hecate’s lips in a searing kiss, effectively stopping her thoughts in their tracks._ _

__When they surfaced for air sometime later, Ada sighed and pressed a soft kiss to Hecate’s temple._ _

__“Just right.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just shamelessly steal a line/moment from the 2005 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice? Yes, yes I did.
> 
> Also, deleted scene: as soon as Ada left the hall, Dimity turned around and punched Gullet in the face.


End file.
